The Keeper

Does anyone believe that there are really stories about "keepers" in this world?

I lived in a very unusual family, my childhood was mostly associated with stories about "the keeper".

When I was young, because my parents were often away on business trips, I was sent back to the countryside to live with my grandparents. The air in the countryside was fresh and new, and every few hundred meters there was a small hill. My grandparents' house was in the middle of the village, on the highest hill. My grandfather was a veteran, and my grandmother was the president of the village's women's association. When I was young, I often heard about my grandparents' romantic love stories during the war. My grandfather was Vietnamese, my grandmother was of Chinese descent, and their love story across the border had brought tears to many people.

My family's family ties are quite wide, one-third of the people in the village are more or less related to me. They take care of me, love me, pamper me, and even treat me like the village's priceless treasure.

Only now do I know that I am truly the treasure and gold mine of this land.

I sat there absentmindedly, letting them paint my young face. I was 18 this year, the age when I was as bright as a sunflower but as lifeless as a lily. The sounds of hoes, shovels, and rocks colliding together created a very chaotic sound.

Dettagli